Mending the Hero
by FromHakaryou
Summary: A small fic mostly for Ironhide and Ratchet bonding. Polished is meant as the Cybertronian word for 'drunk'. Explicit bot sex. Ironhide X Ratchet


"C'mon Ironhide!"

"Yeah Ironhide, show 'em who's boss!"

The red Autobot tried his best to ignore his companions as they cheered for him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the confidences; he just didn't want to rub it in the old bot's faceplate. He couldn't quite remember how the argument had started, but he knew high grade was involved - and eventually it had come down to arm-wrestling. He was willing to admit that Kup had one up on him in a few areas: but at strength? This poor old soldier was in for a beating.

"All right old bot, you ready?" Ironhide chuckled.

"'Old bot'? Heh, look who's talkin'. You're no new model yourself, Ironhide."

"Oooh!" The gathered crowd (Bumblebee, the twins, Inferno, Red Alert, Hound, Mirage and Trailbreaker) gasped. Ironhide merely laughed.

"Let's see you make good on those words then, Kup." Ironhide said as he placed his elbow on the table and offered his hand. Kup smirked at him and quickly took the weapon specialist's hand. Hound stepped up and smiled.

"Ok, boys: Play nice!" He laughed, then blew a whistle (Primus only knows where he got it) and signaled the start of their match. Both arm wrestlers could tell their opponents were holding back, but neither wanted to give in first. Eventually Ironhide's faceplate cracked into a smile and he let loose. Unfortunately it wasn't good enough. Kup gave him one, hoarse laugh, and then unceremoniously slammed his hand into the table. The force of the slam broke the table in half and snapped two cables in Ironhide's shoulder. Kup moved to his feet triumphantly as Ironhide, shocked, simply stared at the crumpled table.

"How about that!" Kup laughed, grinning as he was congratulated by the crowd.

"Im... impressive." Ironhide muttered as he stood, one arm dangling uselessly at his side.

"Woah!" Sunstreaker shouted, pointing. "He broke Ironhide's slaggin' arm!"

Ironhide grumbled to himself, narrowing his optic scope at the child, before turning and excusing himself from the bustle of curious onlookers. It had been a lucky win, and nothing else. Ironhide just hadn't had a good tune-up in a while, that's all.

The large Autobot tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he walked deeper and deeper into the base, seeking out the med-bay. He knew that Ratchet had turned in early that night, Red Alert was outside, and Wheeljack was off gathering supplies for something, so the med-bay would be empty. Which was fine by him. He figured not many of the 'witnesses' would remember the match tomorrow, so if he could just patch up his arm before Wheeljack returned, then he'd be in the clear and nobody else would have to hear about this little... embarrassment.

Ironhide cast one more look over his shoulder before carefully pushing open the med-bay double doors and stepping inside. It was dark and deserted, save a small blinking light in one corner which signaled that Teletraan I was in his own version of recharge. The Autobot decided not to take his chances with the super computer, so he turned and walked towards the opposite end of the room. He began to feel a little sluggish, still polished from the High Grade earlier, but he knew (roughly) what he was doing and so he attempted to ignore his misgivings.

He approached a large cabinet of equipment and wrenched open the doors a bit harder than necessary, stumbling backwards from the momentum. He shook his helm once he'd regained his balance and looked up just in time to see a whole shelf slide slowly out of the cabinet, then fall to the floor. Ironhide couldn't seem to move for a nano-second as he watched the objects previously on the tray spill to the floor, but eventually he kicked into gear and bent down to pick them up.

"Ironhide, what do you think you're doing?"

The weapon's specialist slowly lifted his helm as his audios were met with a strikingly familiar voice.

"N... nuthin'." Ironhide said quickly. "I was lookin' for something.."

"Ironhide, what could you possibly be looking for in there?" Ratchet sighed, crossing his arms over his chest piece. "That's a medical supply cabinet. If you're looking for the rest of the high grade, I promised Optimus I wasn't going to let any of you have any more tonight - and I intend to keep my promise."

Ironhide stood slowly, and turned to look profile at Ratchet, not wanting the medic to ask questions about his arm. He lifted his helm slightly, making him look polished and indignant, and scoffed.

"I wasn't lookin' for the rest of the high grade, medic."

"Then enlighten me to the object of your query, Ironhide." Ratchet said, cocking his helm to the side. He watched as Ironhide's optics dimmed slightly, attempting to process quickly what it was the medic had asked, before the other Autobot simply scoffed again.

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything." Ironhide grumped, attempting to cross his arms over his chest. Unfortunately he looked quite foolish when only one arm moved to do his bidding.

"Ironhide, what in Vector Sigma happened to your arm!?" The medic shouted, instantly closing the distance between the two Autobots. He ignored the weapon specialist's slight groan of protest and grabbed the injured arm for closer inspection.

"It, uh, nothin'!" Ironhide shouted, trying to pull away. Ratchet held fast, however, and began to drag Ironhide towards the examination tables.

"Right. You snapped the two main tension cables in your arm doing nothing."

"Exactly." Ironhide grumbled, but he knew he'd already lost the fight. He narrowed his optic scope as Ratchet pushed him to his aft on one of the examination tables.

"Ironhide, you aren't normally a good liar so what makes you think you'll be better at it when you're polished?" Ratchet said as he flicked on a bright lamp and reached over to push Ironhide to his back.

"I'm not polished." Ironhide mumbled, easily resisting the medic.

"I can smell the high grade on you." Ratchet's voice was strained as he tried to shift his weight and gain leverage. "And you were already well on your way by the time I left for recharge."

Ironhide frowned deeply upon realizing he'd been discovered, more or less, and he gave up. Barely registering how hard Ratchet was pushing on him, both bots were quite surprised when Ironhide laid down only to have Ratchet practically fall into his lap. Ironhide craned his helm to watch he medic stand, a bright flush on his soft faceplate. Ratchet began busying himself with tools and Ironhide brought his working arm up to fold under his helm as he realized he'd be getting repaired whether he liked it or not.

"How'd you know I was in here anyway?"

"I rigged this place with all kinds of alarms after the last time Sunstreaker and Sideswipe broke in." Ratchet said, sounding only slightly distracted by his tool selection. "Only Wheeljack, First Aid and I know how to get in without triggering them."

"You hooked up enough alarms to pull yourself out of recharge?"

"No - the alarms are wired internally. I boot up with the first trigger."

"Isn't... I mean, that sounds like something Red Alert would do. Are you that paranoid?"

"No." Ratchet said, looking up at Ironhide. "I just don't like people playing with my equipment."

Both bots were only able to stare at each other for a few seconds before they simultaneously recognized the innuendo. Both medic and warrior blushed deeply and looked away: Ironhide cleared his exhaust and Ratchet selected a tool. As the medic started on the tedious task before him, he felt Ironhide's optics on his chassis and blushed deeper.

"What?"

"I uh - sorry I booted you up."

"Don't worry about it; I hadn't gone completely off-line yet anyway." Ratchet angled himself to stand profile next to Ironhide and clicked open a panel in the specialist's shoulder. "Are you going to tell me how you did this?"

"Wasn't plannin' on it. It's kinda embarassin', which was why I was sneakin' around." Ironhide paused. "I've got a reputation to keep up. I can't have bots walking around thinkin' I'm going soft."

"Ironhide, I honestly doubt there is anything you could say to me that would change how I see you: Strong, brave, selfless, and more than a little silly when polished."

"Y-you really think I'm all that?"

"Of course I do, especially that last one."

"Ratchet," Ironhide said softly as he reached over to touch the medic's shoulder, "I'm asking you seriously."

"And that's my serious answer." Ratchet said as he carefully set down his tool and turned to look at the weapon specialist in the optics. "Ironhide, are you trying to tell me you don't think that about yourself?"

"W-well... I mean," Ironhide sighed, "yeah. I guess."

"How do you see yourself?"

"Old 'n washed up." Ironhide said quickly, looking away.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ironhide. Look at me," the medic paused until the warrior complied, "you are one of the bravest, strongest and most selfless bots I have ever had the privilege to meet. I don't think there's a single bad bolt in your body, even if you do try and hide behind such a tough chassis. I don't ever want to hear you doubt yourself again, understand? You're a hero to those of us who grew up with you, and an inspiring role model to every turbo-revving young punk who gets to fight alongside you. I'd trust my very spark to you, Ironhide." Ratchet's voice grew soft, and then it was his turn to look away.

"Ratchet," Ironhide said quietly, sitting up.

"Lay back down - I'm not done."

"Ratchet," Ironhide repeated with a bit more confidence, "you can fix my arm later." He sighed, grabbing the medic's wrist gently. When Ratchet still refused to look at him, he pulsed his spark brightly, making it leak a deep red glow from the cracks in his armor.

"You're polished," Ratchet mumbled even as his own spark pulsed in response.

"Yeah - but I've wanted to do this for a long time."

"Do what?" Ratchet answered predictably. Ironhide chuckled at him and slid his hand from Ratchet's wrist up to his faceplate. He cupped the medic's face easily in the palm of one of his large hands and smiled.

"This." He said, feeling like an old romance novel as he leaned in and captured Ratchet's stunned but wanting lips. He powered down his optics, feeling Ratchet lean into the action and wring his red hands together. Eventually Ironhide leaned back and broke the kiss, leaving his hand on Ratchet's faceplate so that he could stroke his thumb over the heating metal there. He powered up his optics to watch Ratchet do the same. For a second they stared at each other, until Ratchet turned his helm and broke the contact. Ironhide frowned and straightened up a little bit.

"You're polished, Ironhide - and I'm not about to-"

"Ah, don't gimme that, Ratchet." Ironhide barked, reaching for the medic's arm again. "I'm not as far gone as you think I am, and it's not just the high grade talkin' here." He wrapped his fingers easily around Ratchet's wrist again, and was rewarded with a glance from the medic. "I know you've felt it too, right?"

"F-felt what, Ironhide?"

"The tension, Ratchet, between us. It's been there and growin' ever since that night on Moon Base One." Ironhide sighed, rubbing his thumb over Ratchet's arm.

"We were both polished that night, Ironhide." Ratchet reminded, but he'd turned towards the weapon specialist again slightly.

"Yeah, and we didn't do anything either - we both decided that we were too polished to make a decision like that."

"I fail to see how that situation differs from the present."

"You're of sound processor, Ratchet, and I promise you I've never really felt as clear-headed as I do right now. You've been avoiding me a-and I've been avoiding you and we're trying to pretend like we're not doing it."

"I-I don't.."

"Don't play stupid, Ratchet, I'm trying to tell you somethin' and we both know I'm not good at talkin'." Ironhide waited until Ratchet met his optics again. He could feel the medic scanning his scopes in an almost worried way, but the white bot's spark pulsed again and Ironhide knew he was right about Ratchet, for once. He moved his hand again from Ratchet's wrist to his faceplate and hummed softly as the medic powered down his optics and tilted his helm towards the touch.

~I love you, Ratchet.~ He commed softly. ~Bond with me.~ He watched Ratchet's optics flare back into life and the medic stiffened under his hand. He looked towards the door, then back to Ironhide.

~I don't know if that's a good idea.~

~Why not?~ Ironhide said quickly, staring hard at Ratchet. ~Don't try and tell me you don't feel the same way Ratchet, because I can feel it. I'm normally not good at reading people, but I-I feel like I... I can predict you, Ratchet. I want to know you completely and- It is a good idea. Here. Now. What if we don't get another chance?~

~Don't get all morbid warrior on me, Ironhide.~ Ratchet commed, but his voice was soft. He tilted his helm slightly and stepped closer to the table, gripping the side with his hands tightly. Ironhide turned and swung his legs off the table, moving to stand beside Ratchet. He reached out and placed his hand atop one of Ratchet's.

~It's the truth and you know it, med-bot.~ He pried his fingers between Ratchet's hand and the table and eventually brought the red hand towards his chestplate. Ratchet turned to permit the action and soon found himself with a hand palm-flat on Ironhide's chest. He looked at his hand for a moment, illuminated by back-light as Ironhide pulsed his spark, and then up at Ironhide. They met optics again, and Ironhide offered a small smile.

~I... never imagined our first time would be, well, in the med-bay.~

~Me either. I thought we'd end up in Prime's office or something.~ Ironhide was rewarded with a smack. He quickly released Ratchet's hand, caught the offending limb and used it to pull Ratchet in for another kiss. He held Ratchet's arm behind his helm for a moment or two as he pressed their chests together, then eventually released the medic to wrap his only working arm around Ratchet's waist. He could feel the medic relax against him, one nimble hand on his chest plate and the other lazily in the air by his helm, arm resting on his shoulder. He was surprised when Ratchet pressed his glossa to his lips and thrummed his core at him - he was far more than a surprised recipient this time. He was taking an active role. Ironhide didn't mind, however, and he smirked, nipping Ratchet's glossa playfully. Ratchet broke away from Ironhide with a smirk of his own as his curious glossa was nipped, and he turned his helm to rest it on Ironhide's temporarily useless shoulder.

~You've really... wanted this for a while?~

~Mmhmm,~ Ironhide muttered, biting back a small complaint - he wasn't in the mood to talk.

~Then you can wait a little longer, until I fix your arm.~ Ratchet prodded playfully, moving to get away from the specialist.

Ironhide was momentarily taken aback, and so he gaped as Ratchet dodged his groping arm and ended up behind him. He turned quick and pointed.

"Oh no, you're not getting out of this that easy." He growled. Ratchet shrugged at him and took a small step backwards.

"And what are you going to do, exactly, Ironhide? You might be strong, but we both know you're not match for me with one arm." Ratchet said, arching his optic ridges. Ironhide laughed once.

"You wanna try me?" He started forward, noticing Ratchet step back, and then the chase began. Ratchet soon put his back to Ironhide and took off through the large med-bay, gently pushing tables and carts into the path between them. Ironhide, eager but not wanting to damage anything, stepped aside or pushed away the obstacles, growling louder each time he was thwarted. Eventually Ratchet backed himself into a corner, and Ironhide stalked slowly towards him.

~Now what? You're out of places to hide and things to throw at me...~

~I'm not out of options just yet.~ Ratchet offered, and he quickly closed the distance between them, shocking Ironhide enough to gain the upper hand - but he was done running. He'd had his fun. He wrapped his arms over Ironhide's shoulders and leaned onto him completely, throwing them both off balance and to the floor. He heard Ironhide grunt as his back connected with the metal beneath them, and he attempted to take the warrior's mind off the collisions by kissing him again, running his glossa once more over thinned and hardened lips.

Ironhide was more than a little surprised by Ratchet's sudden 'take charge' attitude, but he liked it. He wrapped his working arm over the medic's back and parted his lips to permit Ratchet's glossa a bit more play room. Enjoying the strange sensation of having someone else's glossa in his mouth, he began to drag his hand up and down Ratchet's back, squeezing at his shoulders, poking and prodding at his armor until, at long last, he found Ratchet's aft. Oh Primus. Ironhide had always, always liked Ratchet's aft, even before he'd become exposed to the blaring sexual tension between them. His aft was just so - so perfectly sculpted, so seamless, so - so-

Ratchet broke away from the kiss and turned to look over his shoulder as Ironhide began squeezing his aft. He grunted a little at the attention and rocked his hips against Ironhide's, brushing lower armor against lowered armor. This had the desired effect and Ironhide's hand fell to Ratchet's hip instead of his aft. He heard the red bot mutter a few things under his breath, but he was too preoccupied to try and make them out, or to ask Ironhide to repeat himself. He rocked his hips forward once more, resulting in Ironhide arching against him. He dipped his head down to kiss Ironhide's shoulders and neck, and the hand on his hip tightened.

Ironhide took a deep breath and used his legs to flip himself over, instantly pinning Ratchet beneath them. The force of the roll knocked over a small table somewhere near to them, but the clattering of tools and equipment was ignored by both parties. Ironhide kept his hand firmly on Ratchet's hip, but he was bucking his own and bending his legs up in an attempt to further their contact, feeling for a moment as if he was attempting to climb Ratchet. Their lower armor brushed once more and with a click that sounded far too loud to be normal, Ironhide's lower panel snapped open. He groaned low at the sensation and sought out Ratchet's mouth once more.

It was Ratchet's turn to arch into Ironhide as he felt the other bot's panel slide open against his lower armor. His body began to heat up instantly, tinting his faceplate red and making his vents open full flush. His lips parted as Ironhide found them again and he couldn't hold back from gasping into his partner's mouth, cords in his neck tense as Ironhide rocked their lower panels together again. He felt the edges of his panel weaken and then slide open in a mimic of Ironhide's until the medic's most sensitive parts were exposed. He broke their kiss and gasped in a panicked breath as Ironhide shifted until he brushed their lower panels together, sending a shockwave of heat through the medic's mainframe.

~D-do that again...~ Ratchet pleaded, panting as he moved his hands up to grip Ironhide's helm.

Ironhide nodded, tightening his fingers around Ratchet's waist once more before rocking forward again. He felt his core thrum upon hearing Ratchet gasp out again, upon feeling him practically shudder under Ironhide's weight. The medic's hands moved to his neck and shoulders again and the fingers began kneading at the metal there. Ironhide powered down his optics and slid his hand up Ratchet's side, then back down before reluctantly pulling it away and bracing himself against the floor with it. He lifted himself off Ratchet, resting on his elbow with his fingers splayed on the floor near Ratchet's shoulder. He leaned back down and brushed his lips softly over Ratchet's.

~S-switch?~ He panted, and Ratchet nodded almost frantically against him.

Ratchet paused for a nano second more before pulling one hand away from Ironhide and reaching down between them until his fingers stumbled into his lower panel. Biting back a moan he maneuvered his thumb into the opening and gave the smallest tug. Being a medic had its uses, one of them being that Ratchet had greater control over his body and all its functions than most Cybertronians. He was able to easily switch his panel to the standard 'female' position without having to wait for his body to lubricate on his own. As an afterthought, however, as he pulled his hand back up slowly, brushing the back of his knuckles against Ironhide's rough outer armor, he coerced his body into lubricating quickly. By the time his arm was again around Ironhide's neck he felt the lubrication gathering in the corners of his panel, making him more than ready for Ironhide to continue.

Ironhide did his best not to squirm as he felt Ratchet's hand moving between them, and he let out a moan as the medic made sure to brush his armor on the way back up and out. He couldn't stop himself from pressing forward hard as Ratchet's hand found its place on his shoulder again. His core thrummed louder as Ratchet moaned from the weight and began bending his legs upwards until his knees were even with Ironhide's hips. He felt Ratchet begin to squirm and he tilted his head down to kiss and suck at the medic's neck. As the red fingers began to dance over his back and shoulders, pulling and scraping at him, trying to pull him as close as he could come, Ironhide felt his piece pop and brush against the heat centered in Ratchet's lower panel. The weapon's specialist moaned deeply.

Ratchet let out a deep hiss as Ironhide shifted his body, trying to position them correctly and succeeding in brushing his panel against Ratchet's once more. The sensation was bliss, almost painful it was so good. Thoughts began to surface and fade away in the back of Ratchet's central processor as he began to wonder idly how long it had been since he'd bonded with anyone, but the details were lost to him. Eventually he felt Ironhide stiffen, and he gathered that the larger bot had determined the best way to continue. After a second of nothing however, Ratchet powered up his optics and started slightly upon seeing Ironhide staring down at him, a strange expression on his faceplate.

~I-Ironhide?~ He commed curiously; the specialists' optics flickered. ~Wh-what's the matter?~

~I,~ Ironhide started, then turned his helm to one side, avoiding Ratchet's gaze. ~I just-~

Ratchet frowned, and tugged Ironhide downwards towards him once more as he powered down his optics again and focused on the armor around his spark. In a few nano-seconds time he'd opened his chestplate to reveal his 'self' to the shaken bot above him. He felt Ironhide stiffen and then jerk back to fix his optics on Ratchet's spark. It was odd, he mused. He'd begun to think he would feel exposed and nervous in front of Ironhide like this, so completely bear - but he didn't. He felt, comfortable. Almost as if he had done it before.

Ironhide felt his core thrum louder and his spark pulse so hard it almost hurt as he stared at Ratchet's spark beneath him; open, vulnerable. He felt suddenly afraid, irrationally afraid. He knew that the likelihood of him hurting Ratchet was slim, after all Ironhide was large but Ratchet wasn't exactly fragile, but he still became suddenly aware of just how large he was, of just how vulnerable he'd made the medic. Apparently Ratchet began picking up on his insecurities, for the softer Autobot wrapped his arms tightly around Ironhide and pulled him down closer, pressing his closed chest plate to Ratchet's spark. Ironhide shuddered and moaned, clenching his hand into a fist as he felt the seam along his chestplate heat up in a desire to open, to merge with Ratchet. Far be it for him to deny it, after all he was kind of the instigator. He began to slowly expose his spark as he shifted once more, hissed in a breath, and pressed his piece into Ratchet's valve, rather without warning.

Ratchet's optics flared up and then died back down as he arched completely into Ironhide, instantly taking whatever length was left of the other bot's piece into his valve in the process. The back of his helm hit the floor as he began pressing his heels into the ground, almost as if trying to crawl away though that was the absolute last thing on his central processor. He pressed his legs in tightly to Ironhide's side and closed his hands into fists against his shoulders with a long, shuddering moan. He felt Ironhide's breath near his spark as the larger Autobot practically folded in half atop him, his one working arm shaking from the strain. Ratchet wanted to reach out and buckle in Ironhide's elbow, force him to put his weight onto the medic and relax enough to enjoy the experience in its fullness, but his body was bonding now - and it hadn't felt this good in so long. He could barely maintain a single stream of thought, let alone work his chassis in accordance to a plan. He hissed in a breath as Ironhide shifted, pulling out and pushing back in roughly as his chest plate opened completely and left him just as exposed as Ratchet.

Ironhide felt a shudder pass through his whole being as he exposed his spark to the world for the first time since he was a child. He'd never intentionally tell Ratchet that the medic was his first bondmate, but he had a feeling that eventually he would find out, so he became determined to come to terms with the fact and not shy away from this new experience. He slid forward slowly, carefully, until he could feel Ratchet's breath on his face; until they were so close he could simply pucker and their lips would touch. He felt his spark quiver in its chamber, and then miraculously and painlessly, it sort of leapt forward. He tried to angle his helm enough to watch, but the moment the two sparks came close enough to lick at each other with their small threads of electrical current, his optics powered down and he fairly collapsed atop Ratchet. He felt the surface of his spark connect, and then begin to push through into Ratchet's spark and he let out a soft cry.

Ratchet's central processor flickered between concentrating on the presence within his valve and the bonding of his spark to Ironhide's. It was a chaotic but blissful sensation that made time seem meaningless to the medic. He latched his hands behind Ironhide's helm and pulled him closer. He wanted to feel Ironhide around him completely, that very instant, but he also wanted to savor the feeling, to give himself completely to the bond like he had never been able to do before. He urged his own spark forward gently; feeling it push into Ironhide's and bring them almost half-way through the process. He lifted his helm off the floor and pressed his lips to Ironhide's shoulder to swallow a moan as he began to feel Ironhide's presence within him. The warrior was tentative but eager, spreading electric currents like fingers through his central processor, through his mainframe, through the delicate inside of his chassis. He felt the wires low in his midsection tense up and knot together for his bodily functions could not so easily forget the steady in-and-out rhythm the warrior began to pound into the medic's body.

Ironhide felt the overwhelming urge to say something to Ratchet, but his processor couldn't find the words, and his body couldn't function enough to deliver them. He felt a strange cold through his mainframe, but it was comforting, welcome and familiar. He continued to stretch forward with appendages he wasn't sure he was really in control of, and delved deeper and deeper into Ratchet. He found no walls, no barriers, Ratchet was open to him with no regrets and it made his lower wiring tense in an attempt to hold back overload at the very concept of such openness. His system began to flood with the information pouring out of the medic so willingly, and with a long groan of pleasure he pressed himself forward. His spark slithered forward inch by inch, quicker this time, until the space between their sparks not yet connected was nothing more than a crescent.

Ratchet felt his body begin to weaken, to cave in and beep at him that his overload was coming - and soon. He didn't want to break this bond without completing the merging; he selfishly wanted to know Ironhide now at no matter the cost to his internal temperature. He manually switched receptors from his lower panel off so that he could more fully concentrate on his spark accepting Ironhide's into itself, and accept it did. The medic's spark, the only engaged spark to have experience with bonding, took the final step and pulled Ironhide's 'soul' into itself and merged the two Autobots. For a few, blissful nanoseconds they ceased to be Ironhide and Ratchet and became something new - something pure and perfect and timeless. They were devotion, they were trust, they were admiration and adoration, they were love and lust; they were complete. His helm fell back and his mouth opened in a silent cry as he felt the final stage of the merging begin.

Ironhide's arm gave out on him and long last, and he crumpled atop Ratchet, his chin resting on the other Autobot's shoulder as his spark began to do something it had never done before. It was completing the link between medic and warrior. The small threads of electricity had begun to braid with one another and feed back into the Autobots from one thrumming core, infusing them with this new code, this new knowledge - this new being. This information, this total and overwhelming completeness settled into the back of Ironhide's central processor and filled him with a stunning sensation of perfection. He was now no longer alone - everything that he had was Ratchet's, and it was the same with the medic. They were now united by body and spark and nothing, nothing could break that. He felt his wires coil, his optics flare white and then offline as he reached overload. His piece emptied into Ratchet's valve and his spark pulsed brightly in time with Ratchet's, continuing to infuse this new being into Ironhide until he simply did not have the energy to take anymore, and the sparks parted.

Ratchet felt his whole body, mainframe and chassis alike, suddenly and completely relax and collapse. His legs clattered, open and unabashed, to the floor and his arms joined them, leaving him sprawled spread-eagle beneath the red warrior. He felt Ironhide's body kick into coolant over-drive, the specialist's vents opened full flush, his metal began to click. He heard Ironhide make a soft moan as their sparks made the slow, reluctant journey back to their own chambers, then shut and locked themselves away, lower panels following suit. Ratchet reached up with a slightly shaky arm and lifted Ironhide's faceplate to look at him. He didn't have anything to say, really, he just wanted to see him. He powered up his optics in time with Ironhide and stared into the face of his new bondmate. Ironhide flashed a tired smile and tilted his helm forward until his forehead brushed Ratchet's, and he powered his optics back down.

Neither of them were in the state of processor to hear the door click open, and they were both blissfully unaware they had been spotted...

Until Wheeljack dropped his equipment to the floor and fell flat on his aft.


End file.
